


Debugging

by nouseforaname



Series: Recovery Mode [5]
Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: F/F, Post-Canon, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:35:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23625472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nouseforaname/pseuds/nouseforaname
Summary: Dom's patience is put to the ultimate test when Darlene falls ill on her birthday.
Relationships: Darlene Alderson/Dominique DiPierro
Series: Recovery Mode [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1625374
Comments: 6
Kudos: 58





	Debugging

“I’m not exaggerating.” Elliot rubs the back of his neck.

“C’mon.” Dom insists, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the side of his desk. “It can’t be that bad.”

“I saw her this morning. It was pretty bad.”

“How bad could it be?” The redhead furrows her brow. “She seemed fine a few days ago.”

He frowns. “She’s gotten a lot worse since you last saw her.”

“I can’t _not_ see her tomorrow.” Dom sighs.

“It can wait.” Elliot shrugs again.

“My immune system is top notch.” She smirks. “I think I’ll be okay.”

It’s Elliot’s turn to furrow his brow. “Wait, what do you think I’m talking about?”

She quirks an eyebrow. “She’s sick, isn’t she?”

“Well, yeah, but that’s not-” He cuts himself off, shaking his head.

Worry begins to ebb away at her insides. “What?”

Elliot looks seriously concerned, and it isn’t doing much to quell the uneasiness building up inside of her. “You’ve never had to deal with her when she’s sick, have you?”

“No.” Dom blinks. “Why?”

He laughs, but there’s no humour to it. “I guess you’ll have to find out for yourself.”

That’s strangely foreboding. “Really? You’re just going to leave it at that and not even bother to elaborate?”

“It’s something you just need to…experience, that’s all.” Elliot reaches for a stack of reports sitting on the corner of his desk.

“You _just_ told me to hold off on visiting her.” She’s visibly annoyed. “Now you’re telling me I have to see this for myself?”

“Well, if it’s something you’ve never experienced yet, I guess now’s the best time to do it.” Elliot rifles through the various sheets of paper, pretending to look busier than he actually is. “You’re probably better at handling her than I am. I don’t have the best bedside manner.”

“You’re making it sound like she already isn’t a piece of work when she’s healthy.”

“If you think she’s a piece of work when she’s healthy, you’re in for a treat.” He throws her a coy smile when she rolls her eyes. “She probably wants to see you, anyway.”

“I’m seeing her regardless.” Dom mutters. “No one deserves to be sick _and_ alone on their birthday.” She glances at her watch and groans at the time. “I have to go. Promise me you’re coming to that thing tonight.”

“Oh.” Elliot’s eyes widen by just a fraction, as if he’s just remembering something important. “You mean Earl’s retirement thing?”

“Yup.” She doesn’t look thrilled about it either. “One hour?”

When he grins at her, she can’t help but return it. The ‘one hour’ rule sort of became their thing ever since they started working together. Every time a social function at work pops up and they’re obligated to participate, they make a promise to stay for one hour, and then they make a joint excuse to leave. It works every time.

“One hour.” He agrees, and the both of them chuckle before Dom finally parts ways with him and heads back to her office.

* * *

Remember, remember, the fifth of November.

It wouldn’t be right if she was born on any other day.

It’s also pouring rain, which is also weirdly fitting for some reason.

Dom shakes the water out of her umbrella before stepping into the small building, running a hand through her hair as she makes her way up to the fourth floor. The heels of her boots click loudly against the tiles, the damp paper bag cradled in her arms rustling slightly with her movements.

When she stops by the front door, she doesn’t knock. Instead, she pulls out her phone.

_I’m here._

Her phone pings exactly five seconds later.

_Door’s open._

That’s odd. Hackers - especially this one - don’t usually like leaving vulnerabilities like that, especially when they’re so easily accessible. She must be _really_ sick.

Dom slowly turns the knob and pushes the door open, tentatively stepping inside. It’s deathly quiet, save for the onslaught of rain pummelling the windows. The curtains are drawn, so it’s dark in here, and it’s a little chilly.

She drops her umbrella by the door and heads over to the kitchen so she can place the bag on the counter. She shrugs off her long red coat and throws it over one of the chairs by the small table, eyeing the door by the far wall; it’s slightly ajar, teasing a room that’s somehow even darker than this one, and the corner of a mattress.

When she finally steps into the bedroom, her heart leaps to her throat. There’s a lump spread out beneath the sheets, with a small mound of dark hair sticking out from the top. A bottle of flu medicine sits on the nightstand, along with a lamp, a glass of water, a phone, and a spoon. She moves as quickly and quietly as she can, sitting next to the lump, turning the lamp on, and reaching out to thread her fingers through the mound of hair. The lump responds almost immediately, stirring and lazily rolling over.

“Oh, hello.” Darlene’s voice is raspier than it usually is. She’s a lot paler too, and the dark shadows beneath her eyes are more pronounced. “Are you here to visit the invalid?”

Dom rolls her eyes, but she continues to stroke her hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I just fell off a moving truck, only to get hit by five other moving trucks all at the same time.” Darlene pulls the covers over her face and groans. “I’m afraid this is the end for me. Leave and save yourself while you still can.”

The redhead sighs. “Elliot told me you’d be dramatic - well, more dramatic than usual.”

“Fuck him.” Darlene’s voice is muffled against the sheets. “He doesn’t know shit.”

Dom pulls the covers away so she can place a hand on her forehead; the second her palm comes in contact with her skin, her eyes widen with concern. “Jesus H - you’re burning up.”

“Maybe it’s the universe’s way of telling me I’m one year closer to certain death.” Darlene attempts to laugh, but she ends up coughing instead. “Getting the plague on my birthday’s what I always wanted.”

Dom frowns as she brushes a few strands of hair away from Darlene’s face. “I should’ve checked up on you earlier.”

“I can take care of myself.” Darlene glares up at her.

“Really?” Dom looks unconvinced. “How long has your temperature been up like this?”

“I don’t remember what my life was like when my temperature _wasn’t_ like this.”

Elliot wasn’t exaggerating, was he? “When was the last time you’ve taken medicine?”

“What’s with the interrogation?” Darlene huffs. “Damn, Dom, if you’re just looking for a booty call-”

“Make one more joke about that and I will strangle you.” Dom tries her best to sound intimidating, but when she spots the shit-eating grin on Darlene’s face she groans and buries her face in her hands. “I’m never going to hear the end of it, am I?”

“Hell no.” Darlene snorts. “It’s my pièce de résistance. How many other people out there can say they fucked an FBI agent and got arrested for it, only to have that same agent get off to footage of their interrogation? I deserve an award for that. Actually, no - _you_ deserve an award.” She stretches out an arm, gesturing towards an imaginary marquee. “Dominique DiPierro - The Federal Bureau of Investigation’s Kinkiest Agent.”

“Darlene, I swear to God, I will-” Dom stops herself mid-sentence when she realizes that Darlene is just riling her up on purpose so she can get her to stop asking about the medicine. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath as if to steady herself. “I hate you so much.”

“Yeah, okay.” Darlene snorts. “I’m not the one jerking off to videos of my interrogation here.” She smirks at the redhead. “Y’know, I used to think it was fucked up, but I think I get it now. It’s, like, a hate sex sort of thing, right? If it is, I guess I can vibe with that-”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Dom grumbles as Darlene snickers. “Medicine. When did you last take it?”

“I dunno. Who cares?”

The redhead immediately reaches for the bottle perched on the nightstand. “Sit up.”

Darlene’s bloodshot eyes, which were only half-open before, fully open to gawk at her. “What? Why?”

Dom shakes the bottle. “This’ll help. C’mon, up you go.” She slips an arm around Darlene’s shoulders and lifts her off the mattress, propping her against the backboard before turning towards the nightstand so she can grab the spoon. When she turns back to face Darlene, she squints at her outfit. “Is that mine?”

“Yup.” Darlene tugs at the hem of the wrinkled blue and white striped button-up she’s currently wearing. “It totally looks better on me than it does on you.”

“I’ve been looking for that all week.” Dom shakes her head and raises the hand holding the bottle. “Alright, you’re taking this.”

Since Darlene’s strength is completely drained due to her sickness, she only has enough energy to pout. Her expression gradually becomes more disgusted as Dom pours out the medicine. “I’m not a little kid. I don’t need you to do this for me.”

“You and I both know that if I don’t do this for you, you’ll never do it yourself.” Dom holds the spoon towards her, and she sighs when Darlene rolls her eyes in response. “If you’re gonna act like a kid, I have no choice but to treat you like one.”

Darlene crosses her arms. “Are you seriously trying to force feed me right now?”

“If you hate this so much, why do you have an entire bottle of the stuff right next to you?”

There’s a semi-long pause. Darlene’s arms are still crossed, and she’s glowering at the spoon in Dom’s hand. “Elliot said I had to take it.”

“Did you?” When Darlene stubbornly chooses not to respond, Dom laughs. “We’ll take rotating shifts babysitting you if we have to, Darlene.” She softens her tone in the hopes that it’ll get her to ease up a bit. “Can you please take it just this once? For me?”

Darlene snorts. “Ew.”

Her patience is getting thinner and thinner by the second. “I swear to God, I will pry your mouth open if I have to.”

“You’re a really shitty nurse, you know that?”

“That’s why I’m in law enforcement.” Dom smirks. “Can you just take this already? I’m not going to stop asking until you do it. I’ll stay all weekend if I have to.”

Darlene throws her head back and lets out a loud groan. “Ugh.” She sucks in a breath, holding it for a couple of seconds before noisily exhaling in defeat. “Fine. Whatever.”

A triumphant grin stretches wide across the redhead’s mouth. “Open.”

“Okay, Mom.”

“Shut up.”

“Wait - do you want my mouth to open or shut up?” Darlene raises an eyebrow. “You’re being very unclear.”

“Oh my God.” She’s starting to regret coming here in the first place. “Darlene, come on.”

“Okay, okay.” Darlene tries to laugh again, but it comes out in a fit of raspy hacking just like before. “Do your worst.”

She finally opens her mouth just enough for Dom to fit the spoon inside. The redhead snorts when her face contorts with disgust, and she laughs louder when Darlene quickly grabs the glass of water so she can wash everything down. “You can gulp bourbon like it’s water, but you can’t handle a spoonful of medicine? Jesus, you are such a baby.”

“Fuck you.” Darlene splutters, nearly choking on a mouthful of water. She sets the glass aside and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Happy now?”

“Yes, thank you.” Dom places the spoon and bottle next to the glass before leaning forward, cupping Darlene’s cheek with one hand as she drops a kiss to her searing forehead.

“Worst birthday present ever.”

“You’ll thank me when that fever breaks.” Dom rises to her feet. “I’m assuming you haven’t eaten anything yet.”

“Do I look like I’m in any condition to leave my bed right now?” Darlene grumbles, and Dom rolls her eyes.

“I’m pretty sure your legs still work when you have the flu.”

“Have you ever had the fucking flu?” Darlene’s expression is incredulous. “Or did the government alter your DNA when you joined the FBI so you’re immune to disease?”

“I really hope you’re joking.” Dom shakes her head as she makes her way to the door. “Fine. If you don’t want to come, wait right there.”

She’s not sure if she imagined it or not, but she swore she just saw a flash of fear flit across Darlene’s face. “Where are you going?” Her voice is a semitone higher than usual.

Holy shit, this girl actually _is_ a baby when she’s sick.

“I’ll be right back.” Dom hastily makes her way towards the kitchen and reaches for the bag she placed on the counter earlier. She pulls out a thermos, a package of birthday candles, and a clear plastic container with a single slice of chocolate cake on the inside.

“What the hell are you doing over there?” Darlene wearily calls from the bedroom.

“Geez Louise.” Dom chuckles as she digs through one of the drawers for a lighter, another spoon, and a fork. “I haven’t been gone for five minutes. Are you always this clingy when you’re sick?”

There’s a stretch of silence - and then a quiet, angry, “Fuck off.”

After placing the cake on a small plate, Dom sticks a candle into it and picks up the thermos with her free hand. Her grin is wide and goofy when she returns to the bedroom; it gets even wider when she spots the shock on Darlene’s face.

“Dom,” She’s laughing as the redhead sits next to her again and lights the candle. “What in the blue hell is this?”

“It’s your birthday cake, obviously.” Dom lets out an awkward laugh. “But don’t think I’m singing for you, or anything.”

Darlene looks genuinely disappointed. “Why not?”

“Because you’re sick enough as it is. I don’t need to add an earache on top of it.” She holds the cake closer to Darlene’s face. “C’mon, make a wish.”

Something in Darlene’s large eyes melts as she shifts focus from Dom to the candle flickering a few inches away from her. She sits still for a moment, her gaze trained on the small flame for a few seconds, and then she finally blows it out. A part of Dom wants to ask what she wished for, but she knows she won’t get an answer - plus, if she tells her, it won’t come true.

“Great.” The redhead sets the cake on the nightstand and reaches for the thermos. “But before you have a bite, you need some real food in you first.”

Darlene watches her unscrew the cap, raising an eyebrow when steam rises from the opening. “What’s that?”

“Soup.” Dom pours a hearty amount into the upturned cap and hands it over to her. “Chicken noodle, to be exact. My nonna’s recipe - it always makes me feel better when I’m sick.”

Darlene glances down at it, swallowing hard. “You made soup for me?” There’s an audible air of disbelief to her tone.

“Well, yeah.” The redhead shrugs as she presses the spoon into the hand that isn’t holding the soup.

“Why?” Darlene is apparently having a very hard time believing that someone would go through the trouble of making soup for her.

“Because I…” Dom clears her throat, her cheeks stained a faint pink. “I just want you to get better.” She scoots a little closer and presses her forehead against hers. “I hope this helps.”

“Oh, I’m sure it will.” When Dom leans in even closer, Darlene pulls back. “Are you not aware that I’m highly contagious right now? I feel like you’re the type who’d freak out about this shit.”

“I usually am,” Dom admits. “But with you, I could care less.”

That soft look of disbelief returns to her face. “Why?”

“I don’t really know, but since when have you ever followed the rules?” Dom smiles as she raises her hands to frame her face. “Come here.”

And she finally kisses Darlene, smiling as her eyes flutter to a close. Darlene falls slightly forward when they pull apart, chasing Dom’s mouth with her own.

The redhead can’t help but laugh. “Finish your food first.”

Darlene rolls her eyes and scoops up a spoonful of soup. “Ugh, fine.”

Darlene’s a lot hungrier than she wants to admit; it doesn’t take long for her to finish the entire thermos. After a few bites of cake, Dom crawls into bed next to her, wrapping her arms around her and holding her close. She didn’t even notice Darlene was shivering until now. “Cold?”

“A little.” Darlene nestles closer, trembling against her. “Actually, it’s kind of hard to tell.”

“That’s normal. It’ll go away once the fever dies down.” Dom pulls the covers over the both of them. “Better?”

She can feel Darlene sigh against her skin. “Yeah.” She’s still shaking as she cuddles closer, but it’s not as intense as before. “Sorry for ruining your Saturday. I know there’s a billion things the both of us would rather be doing instead of being cooped up in here.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Dom assures her. “But I did have this...thing...in mind.”

Darlene pulls away and shifts upwards a bit on the mattress so that they’re meeting eye to eye. The ends of their noses are millimetres apart from each other. “What thing?”

The redhead shrugs. “I dunno. I was gonna take you out somewhere. I didn’t plan that far ahead; I just knew that I wanted to do something special with you.”

Darlene grins. “So, like a date.”

Dom clears her throat and breaks eye contact for a second. “I guess so, yeah.”

“Come to think of it, we’ve never actually gone on one.” Darlene hums. “I don’t think those nights at the bar count.”

“They definitely don’t.” Dom scoffs.

“So,” Dom can feel one of Darlene’s hands slowly running up and down her bicep. “Where would we go on this hypothetical first date?”

Dom’s cheeks are bright red. “I told you I didn’t plan that far ahead.”

“Okay, but let’s pretend that you did. Where would you take me?”

“I don’t know.” Dom throws her hands up. “Dinner, probably. Somewhere nice.”

Darlene is clearly enjoying this. “Define _nice.”_

“Fancy, I guess?” The redder Dom’s face gets, the wider Darlene’s grin becomes. “A nice, fancy restaurant. How about that?”

“I need specifics, Dom. Paint me a picture here - are we having Italian? Sushi? Some kind of weird trendy fusion? Is it a three or five course meal? Are the plates Instagrammable? Did Beyoncé personally recommend this restaurant on Twitter?”

“Why the hell does that even matter?”

Darlene shakes her head. “You’re severely lacking in the imagination department. Aren’t first dates supposed to be memorable?”

“Fine.” The redhead huffs. “It’s a...hipster Brazilian steakhouse. The waiters come directly to your table and carve your meat for you, and they serve everything in mason jars. Every employee either has a top knot or a beard. Bonus points if they have both. All of the cocktails are named after different Mumford and Sons songs.”

Darlene looks impressed. “Now we’re getting somewhere. I like what I’m hearing so far.” She gestures with a hand. “Keep going.”

Dom groans. “Uh, we get a booth in the corner. In the booth next to us is…Tom Hanks, and he’s having dinner with his family.”

“Wow.” Darlene gives her a slow nod. “VIP. You’re well connected in this universe.”

“Sure.” Dom rolls her eyes. “Tom notices we’re having a fancy dinner and orders us a special bottle of red - off the menu, obviously - and he tells us to have a good time.”

“Damn.” Darlene laughs. “This date sounds amazing.”

“The waiter comes back with a cake, and the whole restaurant sings you Happy Birthday. While you’re distracted with that, I grab the bill and pay for it. We argue about it for a bit, but we get over it quickly-”

“Accurate.”

“And then we go for a walk somewhere.” Dom nervously brushes her hair back with a hand. “Maybe along the river.”

“How romantic.” Darlene smirks. “What are we doing on this walk? Are we holding hands?”

“I dunno.” Dom mumbles. “Talking, I guess.” Her blush darkens. “And I thought holding hands wasn’t your thing.”

“Dude, it’s our first date, and we’re on a lovely evening stroll by the riverside. How can we _not_ hold hands?” Darlene’s face lights up with an idea. “Actually, this works in my favour. This’ll be the perfect opportunity to make my first move, and it’ll catch you by surprise because you wouldn’t expect me to do it.” Darlene grabs Dom’s hand; when she eagerly laces their fingers together the both of them laugh quietly. “Anyways, what would we be talking about?”

“Anything.” The redhead shrugs. “Whatever comes to mind.”

“Can we talk about how Tupac studied ballet and played the Mouse King in his school’s production of The Nutcracker?”

Dom furrows her brow. “Wait - Tupac was a ballet dancer?”

Darlene gawks at her, surprised that she doesn’t know this. “Yeah, he studied it in high school or something. Look it up.”

“Why would we be talking about this?”

“You said we’d be talking about whatever comes to mind.” Darlene points out. “That’s what came to _my_ mind. Maybe I’m trying to impress you with random tidbits of information. It’s a first date, remember? First impressions are _very_ important.”

The redhead snorts. “We’ve known each other for awhile now. First impressions have been out the door a long time ago.”

“Can you just stop being boring and play along with it already?” Darlene groans.

Dom rolls her eyes and sighs in resignation. “Alright, fine. We’re walking along the river, holding hands, talking about Tupac and ballet.”

Darlene leans in a little closer. “Then what?”

“Then…” Dom’s eyes dart upwards as she wracks her brain. “We stop for a bit because it’s kind of chilly, and you didn’t bring a thick enough jacket to wear, so I give you mine.”

“It’s November. You’ll freeze your ass off.” Darlene remarks, and Dom chuckles.

“I think I’ll be okay.” She lets go of her hand and reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind Darlene’s ear. “So I’m putting my jacket on you, and then you notice that we’re standing in front of a really, _really_ nice view of the city. There’s the river, and you see the skyline, and it’s all lit up.” There’s a brief pause. “You say something dumb, probably about how this is taken straight out of a shitty romcom or whatever, and I laugh even though it really isn’t that funny, and then…”

She trails off, her eyes glazing over as the image begins to form in her head. She can see the inky river water crinkling and folding over in soft waves, and the hundreds, maybe thousands of tiny lights from apartment buildings, storefronts, skyscrapers, arenas, warehouses, and offices blinking back at them from across. The sky is an endless black void mottled with twinkling stars. She can see Darlene standing next to her, engulfed in her red wool coat, with the stars and the lights reflecting in her large, sharp blue eyes; the frigid November wind sifts all around them, rustling Darlene’s dark brown tresses, and when she turns to face her, eyes alight and full lips slightly parted, probably just about to make a snarky remark on how she’s giving her goo goo eyes, Dom’s heart stops.

It’s beautiful.

 _She’s_ beautiful.

“What gives?” Darlene’s laugh suddenly pulls her back to the present. “You’re really just gonna leave me hanging like that?” She playfully pushes her shoulder. “C’mon, tell me what happens ne-”

Dom swiftly moves in, cutting her off by pressing her lips against hers; her hand slides over Darlene’s hip, tugging her closer as she leans further into the kiss. Darlene is frozen for a second, probably caught off guard, but she quickly melts into the moment and kisses her back, sliding a hand upwards to cup the redhead’s cheek.

They break apart a few seconds later. Darlene’s eyes are half-open, hazy and unfocused. “Is that what happens next?” Her voice is soft and breathy.

Dom nods as she pulls her in again, resting her chin on top of her head. Her chest is swelling with affection for the sick girl curled up in her arms; she feels like she might burst, but she doesn’t mind it so much. In fact, she kind of enjoys it. “Yeah. Then I tell you Happy Birthday, and that I love you.”

She can feel Darlene’s hair tickling her neck as she nuzzles closer. “A kiss _and_ an _I love you_ on the first date? Pretty bold of you, if I do say so myself.” Darlene sighs. “But seriously, all of that sounds really great. I think that’s the best date I’ve never had.”

“It’ll happen.” Dom insists. “Once you feel better, I’ll take you out.”

“You really think there’s a hipster Brazilian steakhouse out there that Tom Hanks regularly dines at?”

“There has to be one in this city somewhere.” The redhead smirks, and when Darlene laughs she plants a swift kiss to her forehead.

Darlene places a hand on her shoulder and smiles at her for a second before twisting around and reaching for her nightstand. When she pulls the drawer open and digs around inside, Dom leans over to get a better look. “What are you doing?”

“Hold on.” A few more seconds of rummaging pass before Darlene finds whatever she’s looking for. She flops back against Dom, grinning as the redhead snakes her arms around her waist; in her hands is the stack of postcards the redhead gifted her when she got back from her trip.

“You keep these by your bed?” Dom chuckles, rolling so that she’s on her back with Darlene partially on top of her.

Darlene holds the postcards up so the both of them can see. “Why wouldn’t I?” She shuffles through a few of them until she finds the one Dom wrote to her from Paris. “This one’s my favourite.”

Dom presses her cheek against hers as she takes a few seconds to skim through the postcard. “Why?”

“Because of this.” Darlene laughs as she runs a finger beneath one of the lines Dom wrote. “You _would_ drunkenly drop a bottle of wine in the fucking Seine.”

The redhead shakes her head in amusement. “I figured you’d get a kick out of that. How often do you read these?”

“Whenever I have a shitty day.” Darlene nonchalantly shrugs as she flips through a few more of the postcards. “And when I have trouble sleeping.” She pauses on the Berlin card. “They always make me feel better.”

Dom can feel her stomach doing backflips, but as always she tries to play it off as no big deal. “I’m glad they do.”Her arms tighten around Darlene’s waist; she’s still pretty warm, but her tremors have died down significantly, which must mean the medicine is finally starting to kick in. “Feeling any better?”

“Yeah, especially now that you’re here.” Darlene momentarily pulls away to set the postcards on her nightstand. When she's back, she shifts around in Dom's arms and fits her head into the side of her neck. “I know you said you’d only stay the weekend if I didn’t take the stupid medicine, but…” She hesitates, bunching a fistful of Dom’s shirt in between her fingers. “Can you stay anyway?”

Dom chuckles as she nuzzles her cheek into her hair. “I was gonna stay no matter what. Someone’s gotta take care of you.”

“I told you I can take care of myself.” Darlene mutters. She bumps her nose against Dom’s jawline; when the redhead glances down to address her, she leans in for another kiss. “But…you do it better.”

Dom nervously laughs off her embarrassment. “You’re just using me for soup.”

“Obviously, but this is nice too.” After a beat of silence, Darlene speaks up again in a much softer tone of voice. “You don’t actually hate me though, right?”

Dom is rapidly blinking like she’s having trouble processing what she just heard. “Where in the world did that come from?”

“You said you hated me earlier.” She mumbles into the redhead’s neck.

“That was from _way_ earlier. I thought we were past that.” Dom laughs. “And I told you I loved you just a few minutes ago. You know I can never actually hate you, right?”

“Don’t be so sure.” She mumbles again. “You hated me once before. It’s very possible you’ll just hate me again somewhere down the line.”

“Well, if you keep up with the interrogation jokes, sure.” Dom grins, but it quickly disappears when she hears Darlene suppress a laugh.

“Guess you’re just gonna hate me forever then, ‘cause I’m never gonna stop making them.” Darlene closes her eyes, purring as she cuddles closer. “I love you too, asshole. Thanks for making things not as shitty.”

Another blush makes its way onto Dom’s face, and she kisses her again.

“Happy birthday, Darlene.”


End file.
